


Refuge

by ShinobiShan



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, and a kinda badass Faramir, but also lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinobiShan/pseuds/ShinobiShan
Summary: Eomer has known the value of strength his entire life, but being faced with a problem he cannot solve with his sword may require him to question everything he knows.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the story I definitely shouldn't be writing, considering I have so many other WIPs that need my attention.
> 
> I only recently discovered this pairing, and after spending a good chunk of lock down re-watching LOTR, I decided that I needed to write about these lovely boys.
> 
> Faramir has always been one of my favourite characters, so I hope I can do him justice.
> 
> Happy reading!

“Where is she?” Eomer stormed through the doors of the House of Healing, scanning the room for signs of his foolish little sister.

All around him people were rushing about, tending to the never-ending stream of wounded soldiers being brought from the field of battle. He strained his neck over the crowd, immediately spotting Aragorn who was examining a patient nearby.

“My sister, where is she?” Eomer asked again desperately, his loud voice booming over the sounds of the busy room. 

“Peace Eomer, she is in no danger.” Aragorn quickly moved forward to soothe the Marshal, raising his hands to halt his impending war path.

“I would see her, now.” The horse lord insisted, his dark brows furrowing with concern.

“I assure you she is resting well my friend, but I’ll only allow you to pass once you calm down.” Aragorn fixed him with a look that was both stern and full of sympathy.

Eomer opened his mouth in protest, but was interrupted by a sudden loud coughing coming from the bed directly beside him.

Aragorn immediately moved towards the source of the noise, and Eomer watched as he handed the struggling patient a goblet of water, patting his back gently to ease the strain.

Eomer was also surprised to see Gandalf the White himself standing closely beside the patient’s bed, a slight frown creasing his brow as he watched the man struggle to take in the water. This patient must be of some importance to have such an esteemed watch.

Eventually the coughing was eased, and some of the tension left the man’s shoulders as he lay back against the pillows behind him. His stare held the glazed look of one battling a strong fever, and Eomer watched as Gandalf placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Almost instantly the man’s eyes widened in fear, and he focused in on Gandalf, grabbing for the wizard’s arm.

“Please Mithrandir, don’t let him do it.” He spoke in a pleading voice, the distress on his face making him look incredibly young.

“Be still my boy, you are safe now.” Gandalf spoke softly as he ran his palm over the man’s forehead and muttered a few words under his breath.

Immediately the patient went quiet, his eyes falling shut and his limbs relaxing into the bed. To Eomer’s eyes it seemed as if he had fallen into a deep and sudden slumber.

The horse lord was rather shocked by the abrupt stillness that came over the man’s face, and he shot a questioning look in the wizard’s direction.

“Worry not, I simply helped to ease his troubled mind. Our Lord Faramir has been through much of late.” Gandalf cast a sympathetic eye over the sleeping patient as he spoke.

“Lord Faramir.” Eomer spoke the name as if only just remembering the man’s existence, wondering now how he had failed to recognise him. 

“Were his wounds grave?” 

“Yes, but he will be cured thanks to Aragorn’s timely skill. There are some wounds however that even Athelas cannot heal.” Gandalf wore a sorrowful expression, and Eomer wondered what hardships had befallen this captain of Gondor.

“I only knew him briefly, but he is a good man. I will give thought to his recovery.” Eomer spoke solemnly, thinking back on the very few dealings he’d had with the captain.

Faramir had always appeared as a background character in his mind, forever in the shadow of his commanding brother and overbearing father. In contrast to Boromir’s loud, charismatic nature, Faramir had always seemed reserved, only offering his opinion when truly necessary.

The easy smiles which frequented Boromir’s face always appeared to evade the younger Captain somehow, and Eomer had often wondered how they had come to be so different. He had heard whispers from Théoden that their father did not particularly favour his younger son, and Eomer had always felt a touch of pity for him in this regard.

None of these things mattered anymore however, as both Boromir and Denethor were now dead, and his heart suddenly ached at the thought of Faramir waking up to a world now pierced with holes he could never fill. 

Eomer’s thoughts turned back to his sister now, and he gave thanks to whatever force had spared her during the battle. He had lost his parents, his cousin, and now his uncle too, but the thought of losing his sister was almost too much to bear.

His feelings must have shown clearly on his face, because Aragorn moved to place a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Let us go and see your sister, I’m sure she will be glad of a familiar face once she awakens.”

Eomer was quickly pulled from his reverie, and followed behind Aragorn as they made their way to a bed positioned near the window. All at once the bustle of the room around him fell away, and Eomer was flooded with relief as he spotted a familiar golden head resting peacefully against clean, white linens.

He was beside her in an instant, his dark eyes searching frantically over her body for any signs of trauma.

“Thankfully she did not receive any significant wounds, but the Black Breath is no easy foe to shake.” Aragorn spoke softly from beside him, his words filled with assurance and warning.

“My sister has slain an enemy no mortal man could hope to face. She will not be taken so easily.” Eomer wasn’t sure if his words were meant to comfort Aragorn or himself, but he felt calmed by them all the same.

“I cannot promise that she will come away from this unchanged, but I have faith that her body will recover.” Aragorn nodded, sharing Eomer’s sentiments.

“In my haste I admit my manners have left me, thank you for all you have done for my sister. I am forever in your debt.” Eomer bowed his head towards Aragorn, and the men shared a look of understanding.

“She is a rare jewel in a world blackened by the ash of our enemy, I would not see such a light go out.” Aragorn regarded Eowyn’s sleeping form with a soft look, before clasping Eomer’s shoulder and leaving them in peace.

Eomer quietly moved a chair over to his sister’s bedside and settled himself in next to her, releasing a breath he felt like he’d been holding for hours. He felt the muscles in his back relaxing into the cushion behind him, as the fatigue from the battle finally began to flood his limbs.

He leaned forward gently, careful not to jostle his sister, and rested his forehead against the soft sheets of the bed beside her hand.

“If only you’d told me of your desire to fight, I could have protected you. I could have…” Eomer’s words were cut off by fingers coming to rest gently on his head.

He immediately sat up to find his sister’s eyes open, a tired smile gracing her pale face.

“You would have stopped me dear brother, for that is your duty.” Eowyn’s voice was slightly hoarse, but her words were like a balm to Eomer’s wounded soul.

“What am I if not your protector, dear sister? There is no cause greater to me in this world.” Eomer clasped his sister’s pale hand, relieved to find some warmth in her fingers.

“You are hurt. There is blood upon your brow.” Eowyn reached up to wipe away the traces of battle from her brother’s face, but her strength quickly failed. Her shaking fingers only made it as far as his shoulder before they were lowered once more.

“You worry for me when you are the one who is most wounded.” Eomer couldn’t help the sting of tears that gathered in his eyes, and he quickly turned his head to hide his weakness.

“I would not change what happened Eomer, I only wish that I could have saved our dearest uncle.” Eowyn’s words trembled with the same unshed tears that lined her brother’s eyes, and he ran a soothing hand over her hair.

“He is with Theodred now, and all who went before them. I know he would be so proud of you for what you have done.”

“And of you, for all you are going to do.” Eowyn gave him another soft smile, and Eomer’s chest tightened at the thought of his impending role.

His sister must have noticed his worry, and moved to clasp his hand once more.

“Come, this is not the time to worry about such things. Let us rest and take comfort in the battle we have won today.” 

Eomer didn’t trust himself to speak again, so instead he gave his sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and watched over her as she slipped peacefully back into slumber.

It wasn’t long after that he found his own eyelids beginning to grow heavy, and he leaned back in the chair, allowing himself to drift off to the sound of his sister’s steady breathing.

***

It was late when Eomer awoke, the room now lit by nothing but pale rays of moonlight. It was almost completely silent now, but he could feel a tension in the air, a sign that something wasn’t right.

He immediately looked to his sister, but she was resting just as peacefully as she had been when he’d last seen her. He cast his bleary gaze over the rest of the room, but he struggled to make out anything in the dim light. The room itself seemed significantly emptier than it had earlier in the day, and Eomer prayed that the more gravely wounded patients had simply been moved to a separate room, and were not now lost to the world.

Then he heard it. Quiet at first, but growing in definite urgency as the seconds passed. Someone was crying out in distress, their voice cutting the heavy silence of the room.

Eomer was on his feet in an instant, searching the room with keen eyes for the source of the noise. It didn’t take him long to locate the poor tormented soul, and the Marshal was shocked to see Lord Faramir thrashing around frantically in his bed.

The Gondorian’s face was contorted in a painful expression, and there was a definite sheen of sweat coating his pale brow. His hair was damp against his skin, and his fingers clutched so tightly at his sheets that Eomer was sure he would rip through them at any second.

Without really considering his actions, the horse lord moved towards the struggling man and placed a hand carefully against his cheek. The captain was burning up, his face heated with signs of fever.

As soon as contact was made Faramir’s eyes shot open, and he grabbed for Eomer’s arm, his chest heaving as if he’d just run some great distance.

“Boromir?” Fever clouded eyes searched Eomer’s face, desperately seeking something that wasn’t there.

“Be still, my lord. All is well.” Eomer tried to soothe him, a pang of sympathy running through him for the man’s lost brother. 

“The fire, please help me brother.” Faramir’s pleading voice cut right through to Eomer’s heart, and he watched in shock for a moment as the man grabbed at his shirt.

“You are safe, there is nothing to fear.” Eomer managed to find his voice again, not really knowing how to comfort the obviously distressed man.

“He’s going to kill me, please. I don’t want to die.” Faramir’s eyes were now glazed with tears, his fingers clutching tightly at Eomer’s arm.

“No one can harm you here my lord, I assure you.” Eomer tried again, placing a firm hand on Faramir’s shoulder.

“I…I can still feel it.” Faramir was almost whispering now, and Eomer wondered if he could find someone who might ease his suffering.

“I should get someone.” Eomer began to stand up, but was halted by a surprisingly strong grip on his wrist.

“Don’t abandon me, I beg you.” Faramir pleaded, his eye’s still wide with fear. 

Eomer immediately recognised that look. It was the same one he’d always seen on Eowyn’s face after she’d had a nightmare and wouldn’t go back to sleep until he promised to chase the monsters away.

“Hush then, I shall not leave you.” Eomer moved back towards the bed, sinking slowly into the chair Gandalf had been occupying earlier.

At his words Faramir seemed to relax slightly, but his chest continued to strain heavily with each rapid breath.

Without thinking Eomer placed his free hand on the Captain’s chest, rubbing in soothing circles until his breathing began to slow down.

Faramir’s eyes were still foggy with fever, but as Eomer removed his hand from the Captain’s chest he was fixed with a very sober stare.

“You have kind eyes.” Faramir all but whispered, his own lids beginning to droop with fatigue.

Eomer wasn’t sure how to reply to this, so he simply nodded at the feverish man.

“Quiet now, you need to rest.”

Eomer watched as Faramir slowly lost his battle with consciousness and fell into a peaceful sleep.

It wasn’t until moments later that Eomer realised he was now holding the Captain’s hand, and he was not entirely certain how it might have happened.

***

“Eomer?” A voice suddenly roused the warrior from his sleep, and he raised his head with a start.

It took him a moment to recall where he was, and it wasn’t until he noticed Gandalf beside him that he remembered the events of the previous day.

Immediately his eyes flickered to the bed in front of him, and there was a second of confusion before he realised the hand he was holding was not his sister’s.

Gandalf seemed to be having the same thought, and regarded him with a curious eye.

“He was distressed during the night. No one came…” Eomer hurried to explain, being careful not to raise his voice too loudly.

“There is no need to worry, I am grateful for your assistance in comforting him.” Gandalf gave him a small smile, and Eomer was surprised by the sudden rush of embarrassment he felt.

“I did not know what to do for him, there were no healers around.” Eomer continued, now acutely conscious that he was still holding Faramir’s hand.

“I’m afraid there is not much anyone can do for him now, he simply needs rest and time to regain his strength.” Gandalf cast a fond look over the sleeping man.

“But his skin burned with fever. He spoke of fire, and his brother.” Eomer heard his own voice rising slightly in urgency. 

“Nightmares. A cruel companion of the Black Breath I’m afraid. Only time can heal such ills.” Gandalf spoke reassuringly, but Eomer still didn’t feel convinced.

“But surely someone should be with him. He should not face this darkness alone.”

“But he was not alone.” Gandalf stated plainly, regarding the horse lord with knowing eyes.

Eomer felt a flush rising on his cheeks, and quickly averted his gaze to look once again upon Faramir’s face.

“His fear seemed so real, as if he was sure the very servants of death stood before him.”

“The horror is not completely unfounded on his part, those nightmares are but a reflection of his memory. In the midst of our battle his own father attempted to burn him while he still lived.” Gandalf’s face filled with pain as the words left his mouth.

Eomer found himself unable to speak for a few seconds, his mind trying to comprehend the madness he had just heard.

“How could he do such a thing? To his own son?” Eomer regarded the sleeping man with a look of pain, his heart aching once again in sympathy.

“I knew that time and hardship had blackened Denethor’s mind, but even I cannot explain his actions as anything other than evil.” Gandalf’s brow creased with worry.

“Indeed.” Eomer found himself unable to move his eyes from the Captain’s now peaceful face.

“My Lord Eomer, I wonder if you’d be so kind as to do me a small favour.” Gandalf inquired, causing Eomer to turn his head.

“Of course, how may I be of service?”

“Could you keep an eye on Faramir for me? Just while he recovers. I fear that there are not many familiar faces around to comfort him during this time.” 

Eomer paused for a second, wondering why Gandalf would trust him with such a task.

“I will help in any small way I can, but I fear I may not be the most suitable for the job.” Eomer replied, a feeling of apprehension following his words.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I have a feeling you are possibly the most suitable.” Gandalf smiled mysteriously as he placed a gentle hand on the Captain’s brow.

At the contact the sleeping Gondorian began to stir, and after a moment he slowly opened his pale eyes.

“Mithrandir?” He asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I am here my lad.” The wizard smiled softly, moving his hand to rest on Faramir’s shoulder.

“Where am I?” The Captain’s eyes were filled with worry, but were not as clouded by fever as they had been the previous day.

“You are in the House of Healing, and among friends. All is well.”

Faramir’s gaze immediately moved to survey his surroundings, and upon seeing Eomer beside him his brow creased in confusion.

“Lord Eomer? Why are you…?” Faramir’s words trailed off as he finally noticed the horse lord’s hand still grasped in his own.

Immediately Eomer released his grip, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned.

“Lord Eomer kept watch over you through the night, you were stricken with fever.” Gandalf moved to explain, saving Eomer from some embarrassment.

“Is that so? I have no memory of it. I am sorry if I caused you any trouble.” Faramir spoke quietly, a hint of shame lacing his voice. 

“There is nothing to apologise for. You survived unspeakable peril and have done Gondor a great service.” Eomer spoke suddenly, not sure where his boldness had come from.

Faramir’s eyes widened slightly in shock, but he quickly regained his composure. A skill well-honed from years at court Eomer presumed.

“Thank you for your kind words, but I can take no piece of this victory. My failings have cost many lives.” Faramir gave him a rehearsed smile, but Eomer didn’t miss the pain reflected in his gaze.

“Do not mistake the madness of your father’s words as truth my dear Faramir. You have honoured yourself and your men.” Gandalf spoke the words kindly, but his eyes were alight with anger.

“I could have saved them, if only my will had been stronger. If I’d stood against him.” Faramir squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke, and Eomer didn’t miss the tear that rolled down his cheek.

He suddenly felt like he was intruding on a very private moment and decided this was probably a good time to make his exit.

He turned to leave, but something compelled him to address the Captain one last time.

“True strength does not always appear on the battlefield. Sometimes it is in the courage to carry on when everything is telling us not to. You are worthy of honour, Captain of Gondor.” Eomer spoke his final words resolutely, before striding across the room in search of his sister.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter, because I've really enjoyed writing about these boys. 
> 
> I'd love to know what you think, especially since this is such a rare-pair.
> 
> Any and all comments are most welcome.


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